


the voices of the lost is lost (some are found with you)

by azrielkians



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Smut, Voice Acting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23818297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azrielkians/pseuds/azrielkians
Summary: "it was just one time," he loses the sharp edge on his tone. otabek altin is strong--- really, Kazakhstan steel on his bones and bronze on his skin; yuri's not a match for someone made out of battle. he looks away, burning festering, "one time. there won't be another."i don't want a one time, though." if it's possible for war to smile, he sees it to be like pyro; quick fire, but warm warm warm. "i want you."(or yuri and otabek met under sparkling lights, neon signs, and human bodies on dancefloors. it's not a one-night stand if it's love)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Kudos: 2





	the voices of the lost is lost (some are found with you)

**Author's Note:**

> hey! enjoy reading this 10% angst and the rest is fluff. theboys are bad at feelings and words. uwu.

yuri thinks he's seen war under the colors of coal in otabek altin's eyes. he whispers something to the bartender and yuri doesn't catch what it is. it's not like he's watching either way, but underneath his coat is a flush of an inferno; he cannot deny the makings of his body. a drink slides, smoothly in front of him; old fashioned from the looks it. 

(

"come on, yuri~" yuri has a good ear for good voices. mila's, to her fans, would usually carry the voice; white and sultry, a cabernet sauvignon from the sounds of it. "i don't do parties," yuri snaps, pulling his hand away from her witch-grip, standing several feets apart from her. the very air of the club is sickening. "i don't understand why i have to be here," "to mingle?" her answer comes quick, but it's half-hearted. her eyes, he finds, are already towards the crowd. for her, perhaps. for him, it was inconvenience. yet, to cooperate just foe the sake of it, he sits himself along the more duller, quieter corners of the club. a small bar with pressed colors, inconspicuous---- a smile curls on his lips. mila, as it seemed, silenced from afar as he finds her staring right back at him. 

he smirks, and she doesn't say anything. looking away, a sore loser. 

)

the bartender--- if yuri narrows his eyes under the bright neon lights, seems to be under the same making of the kazahkstan boy. however, not, there's a funny air of regality in the way he held himsel, slimmer. the detail allows him enough space to take a breath. "thai?" slender fingers take ice-cold glass to lips. a hint of sweetness, bitters he can't put a name to. the other man smiles, pretty enough lips forming words--- good guess. but if yuri is to be honest, he does not pay attention to words slipping under soft hues, human voices as he puts it. he listens, somehow patiently, to deeper hums and tones and syllables. a little lulled to the pull of his tenors. when yuri finds himself stopping to breathe, he's already standing. bitter green notes in hand as he places his bill under the glass. 

"leaving already?" his back stiffens. it's different, far too much than the one he listened to. it's deeper tones, softer hums; it's better. i don't have anyone to stay for, do i? the words are always much more sharper than he makes them to be, turning around to look at the man clearly. he's not an unfamiliar sight; otabek altin. how can you forget a man who's known around the business? the dramas he's in always has his voice smooth, but the words placed in his throat is foreign the more yuri listened to it. the apology is stuck, but he manages "your russian..." he coughs, "it's not bad." he doesn't lie. there's no rough, or pause. as if he's been in russia for as long as yuri's been. otabek smiles, "i practiced," ahh, yuri nods. he waits, as if expecting for a few more words from altin. there's none.

the stiff air surrounds them both. but otabek doesn't look like he minds at all, but yuri does. he's had quite enough of the party, and for the record, the beverages are bad for his voice. he minds it, the day after tomorrow is recording day. "i'll take my leave---" 

"wait," hands, wrists, pulls. a quiet sort of dance that leaves yuri to be the one following steps. 

  
(

"do you know the altins?" viktor takes his time, surprisingly. they're an interesting bunch to listen to. the younger one--- "otabek," yuri shocks himself, his voice soft. viktor smiles, teasing. and yuri's left to respond. he only scowls. "chill it, viktor. or i'll tell katsudon to postpone his travels to russia." there's no effect of course, barely any because yuuri likes viktor. yuri's opinion of the matter won't really matter. but it changes the conversation to something else, otabek altin out of mind and out of sight. 

) 

  
otabek altin's car was something good to boot. warmer for sure than walking all the way back to the hotel yakov booked while in their stay for this part of russia. there's a good enough atmosphere when yuri breathes in the air. not as good as the one in st. petersburg, but good for their drama. but otabek altin is not part of those good things. he makes yuri's proud voice stifle, and die out in his own throat. it's quite cruel really. "where are you--- staying?" there's a rigid pause that this time, yuri doesn't mind. he says the address, softly under flickering neon lights. "ahh... we're staying. i mean---" "losing confidence, altin?" he mocks, "you invited me to your car, i can take you home you said." and yuri, not saying inside the bar, what is home? it's an interesting passage of time. yuri, for sure, did not expect himself to agree to the offer of a boy he's only heard of through his headphones. nor did he expect from ice skating to voice acting.

otabek altin mutters something under his breath, something like it feels different being in a compart-sized room--- here with you in rough-cut russian. he's misheard for sure, mistook strange sounds for longing. it's strange only. how many times have he met the altins? yuri can count it with one hand. "well, it's a fifteen minute drive. hit it."

( 

he stays awake that night, thinking over the day--- (half of it, considering his life choices)--- he doesn't find sleep, turning to his side. otabek altin. he whispers his name in the dark. it's sweet, the curl of his tongue, teeth and pallet.

)

(love at first sound must feel like this--- the screams of war ringing in his ear, the voice of thousands misheard. it goes quiet at once, the taste of otabek altin--- tobacco and steel and blood. )

**Author's Note:**

> the smut will come. patience patience.


End file.
